


Where Do You Think You're Going?

by Random_ag



Series: Tortured Tales [5]
Category: The Man With Eyes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Gen, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Imagery, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rescue, implied past physical abuse, monster au, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: On a dark night, a child is kidnapped.On a dark night, a child is rescued.
Relationships: Joey Drew & Henry Stein
Series: Tortured Tales [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023520





	Where Do You Think You're Going?

The lights illuminating the docks trembled, swarms of mesmerized moths twirling around them as they craved their deadly spark. Their glowing yellow reflections shifted vaguely up and down the mellow waves, similar to bright bulbous bubbles trapped in the gelatinous ink blue insides of a lava lamp. The ships rolled quietly with the rising and falling of the little piece of ocean they were chained to, anchors sleeping soundly at its murky, dirty bottom.

The dark surface broke: from underneath it rose without in perfect silence something resembling a round sphere of pale blonde hair on top of a cyanotic white head.

The light stared at the sudden intruder with its calm, pupil-less curiosity. It tilted its glowing head in its direction and smiled politely at the clear eyes gazing back at it, shimmering with a similar intrigued puzzlement.

“Hi there.” the light said, dimming slightly as to not hurt the deep sea thing’s vision.

“Heya.” answered the deep sea thing as it pulled its black lips above the cold water. “Ye dun’ sound like yer from he'e.”

“I think it's the other way around.” the light smiled as it took a moment to shift the ladder and the crude crutch under its chubby arm to adjust its grip on it.

“What's that s'ppos'd ta mean?”

“I think it's you who might not be from here.”

The deep sea thing furrowed its pale brows: “Yer jokin’.” it growled, although it sounded more like an annoyed grumble than a threat, “Ain't this Éire?”

“No, it's not.” replied the light, amused. It chuckled when it saw the surprise on the water-dweller's face turn into a mortified expression as it mumbled embarrassedly: “I swam a bit too far, hav'n I...”

“Oh, I wouldn't say… Maybe you swam just far enough to be in the right place.”

A pair of cow-like ears perked and emerged from the waters, attention caught. Something in the glowing smile prophesied of an interesting night.

***

It was cold.

It was cold and dark.

Joey swallowed and attempted to steady his breath; he shut his grey eyes and bit his lip, hoping the pain would keep his fearful tears at bay.

It would all be over soon.

He curled a little more in the corner of the room, wrapping his small frail arms around his leg. From the stump that was his right knee he could feel the black oozing slowly through the bandages. No matter how many or how tightly wrapped, it always oozed through the bandages. Like blood from a cut that never closes.

He followed the quiet plick… plick… plick… of the black as it fell into an inky pool smearing the pure white floor. Even in the dark the contrast was stark, and made the liquid look like a piece of arctic sea lunging from a block of ice.

It would all be over soon.

A sudden noise made him shiver harshly. He heard it approach him, slowly rising as it moved closer and closer and closer: he could have sworn they were footsteps, footsteps coming towards the door, towards him. He shoved his hand down his throat and tried to make as little noise as possible. A dark robe made its appearance on the canvas of his mind, long and black, blacker than the blackest pen, and then a reddened face with a wide open mouth that screamed in a strange language that sounded like wild gibberish, wielding a crooked wooden idol as if about to hammer it into his small fragile skull. The wood reminded him of the anguished man that stuck to it by his hands and feet staring at him with a pained face from every wall where its effigy had been hung, and the blood on his hands and feet reminded him of the doctors who looked at his parents like they were insane, and of the one doctor who didn't, and of his knife, and of He Must Be Awake, and The Pain Will Eradicate The Demon, and Leave This Child! Leave This Child! Leave This Child!, and of his parents being away while he cried, and of being slapped to stay awake.

The footsteps stopped. For a horribly long time, Joey bit on his fingers and tried in vain to keep himself from drooling and crying black; he felt his body shift in fear, wrecked by the gut wrenching anxiety, his skin molding into scales and his teeth into fangs.

He begged silently for the world to let him be; he begged to be left alone for this single time. It will all be over soon, he repeated to himself, crying, sobbing, it will all be over soon, it will all have to be over soon, I was promised it would all be over soon.

Please, let it be over soon.

Scratch scratch scratch, and then a tinkling sound, like glass falling. His eyes snapped open and he looked to the window: a grey shadow replied to its gaze with double drop pupils behind the broken window, pale, plump, dripping wet and apparently naked. It gripped the windowsill with feet akin to bear paws, and the sparse light illuminated blueish scales that ran up to its chest.

The creature jumped into the room, careful not to frighten him. A tail retracted into its back.

“Are ye Joey?” it whispered.

Joey curled even more into himself, shivering slightly: “Who are you?”

“Me name's Niamh.” it replied, and its eyes almost twinkled giddily as from its death black lips emerged a wide, glad smile of pure white teeth: “I‘m helpin’ yer brother kidnap ya.”

The boy felt relief sweep over him: Henry! He had come! And with backup, too… He was very secretive of his rescue kidnapping plan, and even more of their friendship. If someone knew of both, then they had to be with Henry. And either way, he did not want to spend a single second more in that room, surrounded by the inescapable pained stares of anguished men nailed to the walls, fearing every noise he heard in the night, caged like a troublesome dog by those who should have protected him.

He could trust Niamh.

He began scooting across the floor towards his shining knight, overjoyed. Niamh - who despite the scales, pupils, bear claws, cow ears and heavy saltwater smell, in the end just looked like a very pale girl - didn't wait for him to reach her; she ran towards him and picked him up in her plump arms with no effort whatsoever. At first, while she quickly jumped on the windowsill to begin their descent into freedom, he imagined such ease in carrying him was simply due to his nearly non-existent weight; the sight of the holes she had carved in the bricks on her way up to the window told him of pure raw power. The proof of her strength made him feel as if he would be able to take on the entire world so long as he was in her hold.

On a ladder that had rather tragically turned out to be too short for the crucial role it was supposed to have in his found brother’s kidnapped escape, Henry glowed a bright golden color at the sight of his friend, his smile curving in a replica of the scar trailing across his nose.

Joey immediately replied with an equally ecstatic tooth gapped grin as he lunged towards him, throwing all caution to the wind in his eagerness to bask in the strange warmth of his hug, but luckily didn't manage to break free of Niamh’s wet grip. He watched as octopus tentacles sprouted from her hips and attached to the walls like suction cups while her legs disappeared into her body. She crawled down with a smooth but tumultuous motion, too fast for the luminous child to be able to precede her even by sliding down the steps instead of descending them one by one.

“Do they even feed ya, anyways?” Niamh stopped to ask Joey as she furrowed her brows, “Feels like I'm holdin’ a packet a’ pebbles!”

“I, hm, I get lunch sometimes.” he squeaked. The light blue eyes widened, astonished at best and horrified at worst.

“I'm glad we're kidnappin’ ya.”

A gentle burn imprinted itself on Joey's pale frame as Henry's arms wrapped tight around him. The smaller boy was glad to lean into his warm, almost fuzzy embrace, detaching from Niamh's strong but chilly hold that to some degree reminded him of the bed he had been strapped on when half of his leg was taken from him. She still held him upright as Henry handed him the crutch.

“Ye got a place t’ stay now, right?” she asked them.

Henry smiled: “Don't worry, I know someone…”

***

Norman awoke to Jolene floating sleepily beside him.

Next to her stood a child-shaped light and a sickly looking kid.

“We're your sons now.”

“I don't have a choice, do I.”

“Not really.”

He sighed. Two more beds it is. 


End file.
